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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174000">Unnecessary Medicine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitochondria/pseuds/bitochondria'>bitochondria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miami Vice (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous Orientation Rico Tubbs, Bisexual Sonny Crockett, Canon-Typical Behavior, Caretaking, Crockett takes care of Tubbs when he gets dosed with tetrodotoxin, Drug Use, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, It's Mutual Pining but since this is from Tubbs' perspective he just thinks it's him, Light Angst, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oudated LGBTQ+ Terminology, POV Third Person Limited, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Propositions, Smoking, Tubbs casually suggests doing Friends With Benefits, Tubbs takes care of Crockett when he gets dosed with cocaine, episode: s02e04 The Dutch Oven, episode: s02e07 Tale of the Goat, the Hurt happened in the episodes though so it's mostly just the Comfort, the ending isn't all that positive but it's because they're both stupid, there will be a happier follow-up eventually</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:28:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitochondria/pseuds/bitochondria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Crockett finds himself with a plate full of cocaine in his face, Tubbs insists on following him home. A few weeks later, after Tubbs is injected with tetrodotoxin, Crockett refuses to let him go home alone. On both occasions, Tubbs thinks about his growing feelings for his partner, and eventually decides he may as well say something about it.</p><p>(Technically a follow-up to  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22881829">Ashes in a Goldfish Bowl</a> and  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513145">Gas Station Confessional</a>, but makes sense on its own, too!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sonny Crockett/Ricardo Tubbs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Crockett & Coke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I want to punch that guy’s lights out, Rico.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you do,” Tubbs sighed, looking around the trashed nightclub. He tried to trace the smoothest path out of the building, one that wouldn’t involve Sonny socking anyone in the nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can he treat Trudy that way? How can he </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The exact order of events had been… </span>
  <em>
    <span>garbled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but what he did know was that Adonis had hit Sonny in the face with a serving platter of cocaine. Even if there weren’t still a goddamn blizzard on the floor and a minor squall on Sonny’s face, his darting eyes and twitching hands would have made that pretty clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to go over there and give him a piece of my mind,” Sonny half-muttered, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with the heel of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would recommend against it,” Tubbs warned, but Crockett was off and walking before he could grab his wrist or step in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, Trudy told him off. Gently, but firmly. She was good like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And of course, she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crockett slapped with a Wall Street salary’s worth of blow, so she probably knew treading a little cautiously was in everyone’s best interest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny stood at the door to the club, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels like a bored kid. He kept sniffing and rubbing at his face. Tubbs sauntered over to join him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That guy’s a real piece of work,” he continued complaining, pupils like saucers. “I know she and Gina were saying it’s hard to date as cops, and I get that, it is, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>jeez</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Rico, why would you let yourself get involved with a schmuck like that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t,” Tubbs answered half-heartedly, still trying to figure out what to do with his partner. He’d be fine soon, theoretically, but in the meantime it seemed like he might drive off a bridge looking for a cigarette. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sonny grumbled, rolling his eyes. “A nice girl like Trudy, she just deserves better, y’know?” He fished in his pockets for his lighter. “Is it hot in here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs gritted his teeth. “You want to go take a walk, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. We gotta finish up here— I’m sure they’ll want to take my statement and—” He continued digging through his pockets. “Goddamn it. Where the hell are my smokes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you keep looking for a second while I go talk to Castillo, okay?” Tubbs suggested, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that, even high as a kite, Sonny was going to see that as an obvious excuse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny turned his pants pockets inside out and looked around the building like his Luckies might manifest themselves out of thin air if he just blinked enough. “Hell’s that about? You got something to say to him you can’t say in front of me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool it, man.” Tubbs put his hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “Just asking him if we can get going, okay? You can give your damn statement when you aren’t on a sleigh ride, alright, partner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny scowled but acquiesced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs pulled Castillo aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lieutenant, would it be alright if we go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castillo glanced ever-so-briefly in his direction, and then looked with great portent at a purple trapezoidal mirror on the far wall. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Tubbs gestured with the top of his head, “Crockett is… kind of wired. I mean, you heard Trudy. He got dosed during the arrest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding slowly, Castillo continued looking at a forty-five degree angle to Tubbs. “He can give his statement in the morning.” He glanced back at Tubbs. “Don’t let him drive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t,” Tubbs agreed, nodding at Castillo before making his way back over to his partner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still scanning the room, possibly for his cigarettes, but possibly just on high alert, Crockett’s eyes darted only briefly to Tubbs’ face. “I really don’t know if we should go. I think we should stick around in case Trudy needs us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gina’s going to stay with her,” Tubbs assured him. He placed his hand flat on Sonny’s back and started steering him out of the club.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Castillo doesn’t need anything from us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. We’re free as birds.” He smiled, an upward tilt of the corners of his mouth without any feeling behind it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny flashed him a dirty look and stepped outside. “Can we stop somewhere and buy me a new pack of cigs? I’m really itching for a smoke.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you are,” Tubbs agreed, pushing Sonny away from the club. Itchy was definitely the right word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny turned back one more time, prevented from going any further by Tubbs’ outstretched arm. “You sure we shouldn’t stay to help out? I feel like a real bastard just bouncing like this—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sonny.” He squared his shoulders to the door of the club, an impenetrable wall of friendly concern. “I think right now Trudy has a lot to process, and you’re not gonna help her any with that. I’m sure she’s going to be looking for friends tomorrow, but let’s give her a little space tonight, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning on his heel and glancing out into the street, Sonny sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs placed his hand on Sonny’s back and steered him towards the convenience store a few blocks down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It just sucks,” he spat, jamming his hands in his pockets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It does.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>that guy, y’know? He seemed like a good dude, and he made her happy.” Sonny shook his head. “But having to ask yourself, y’know, with any possible romantic prospects, ‘am I gonna have to compromise my ideals, here?’ It just… really sucks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You talking about Trudy now, or yourself?” Tubbs smirked, elbowing Sonny in the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m talking about all of us!” He threw his hands up. “Never fucking get married, Rico, because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>guaranteed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to end in divorce.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reeeally, guaranteed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guar-an-teed. COD. Money back promise, fully bonded and insured.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs snorted at Sonny’s rapid patter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m serious, man.” Sonny put his hand on the front of Tubb’s forearm, like he was going to stop him from walking, but then he continued moving forward anyway. “Name one person in our precinct who’s in a successful long-term relationship.” He suddenly smiled, a little mischievously, and tacked on, “Other than Switek and Zito.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett’s tendency to make off-hand gay jokes had puzzled Tubbs, initially, after he had come to the conclusion that the man wasn’t entirely straight as an arrow. The whole business with Evan had muddied those waters even further, considering a joke had sparked the chain of events that led to Mike Orgel’s death. At first he had wondered if it was a kind of outpouring of self-loathing, or a verbal shield designed to make him look </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> homophobic enough that no one would question his own leanings. But recently, Tubbs had started to pick up on the affection behind his voice when he said things like that, and how often they actually seemed like self-deprecating comments— there was a wink, somewhere, behind every joke— a very subtle whisper of ‘I’m in on it, you know.’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Sandy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t count, she’s a School Resource Officer.” Sonny’s hand was still on Tubb’s arm, and he swatted him slightly as he spoke. “And she’s married to one of the teachers in the school district. Not the same.” He counted on the fingers of his other hand. “I’m talking vice, major crimes, homicide, you know. Not game wardens and meter maids.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turned into the convenience store.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, we’re all so fucked up that we can’t relate to normal people anymore, y’know,” he sighed, shaking his head. He tapped on the counter and pointed behind the cashier. “Pack of Luckies?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paid and immediately lit up before stepping out of the store. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it’s not like workplace romance is any better,” he continued, exhaling smoke into the humid night air. “Obviously that worked out great with me and Gina.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t help but think that might have gone better if you hadn’t still been married when you two were sleeping together,” Tubbs admonished, trying to keep his smiling to a minimum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t say</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Sonny rolled his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey man, we all do stupid shit when we’re thinking with our dicks,” Tubbs laughed. He was no stranger to that kind of idiocy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying— Trudy— Gina too, they both are… they’re both better than the jerkoffs they’ve dated, myself included.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That hadn’t been his original thesis, but Tubbs just let him ramble as they paced back to the parking lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes I think, at the academy, there should be a relationships and communication class, and if you don’t pass it, when they give you your badge and gun, you also get fitted with a chastity belt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… feel like we'd have a lot less academy candidates, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no kidding. But at least new cadets would know what they’re in for.” His cigarette dangled in his mouth as he looked up, hands on his hips. “You know, my last partner, he was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span> about his wife. Seein’ the two of them together, it made you want to go dial a fucking priest and marry the nearest sucker you could find, like everything would just be okay if you could have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> of what those two had.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brought his fingers to his lips, inhaling slowly, and then shook his head as he took the cigarette out of his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’know, she was pregnant? When Eddie died?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced at Tubbs like this was news. Maybe it was, from his perspective— Crockett only ever talked about Eddie if he was more than a little buzzed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs nodded quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, kid’s gotta be… a year old, almost, right?” He looked down at the ground, pulling another drag from his smoke. “Shit, Rico, I need to go visit them some time. I really am a jerkoff.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This has been a tough year,” Tubbs assured, trying to prevent twitchy high-energy Crockett from turning into irritable, paranoid Crockett. He reached out to touch his sleeve, but Sonny yanked his arm away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well. Too late for that, then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every year’s a tough year,” he snapped. “I’m just fucking… negligent.” He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs bit the inside of his lip and suggested, “Hey, why don’t I bring you home, man?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Sonny sighed. “I can drive myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sonny,” Tubbs cautioned, “I’m not saying you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it’s probably better if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny pursed his lips at him, head tilted slightly, looking a little like a sullen teenager. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs couldn’t help but smile, just a tiny bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m driving you home,” he insisted, and walked around so he was standing on the Ferrari’s driver side. He put his hand out, and waited for Crockett to toss him the keys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a dramatic eye roll, Sonny threw them over the car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first fifteen minutes they were driving, he narrated everything Tubbs needed to be doing with the car (Tubbs nodded along patiently, gritting his teeth through a repeat of every driving lecture he had gotten in their first month as partners) and fiddled with the radio dial so much that Tubbs started thinking it might be time to snap the antenna off. Even when he was being quiet, he was smoking with one hand and tapping on the dashboard with the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After resetting the radio station for the sixtieth time, he leaned back, actually quiet, and looked out the open window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breathed out, watching smoke trail behind them. He blinked slowly, his eyelashes coming together, just barely catching the light of the streetlamps as they drove.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lizard part of Tubbs’ brain whispered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he really is kind of beautiful, huh?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swatted the thought away and focused on what he could be doing to help his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You doing okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny half-nodded, fingers to his lips, cigarette a golden ember against the darkened streets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled his hand from his mouth, smoke pouring from his nose, and leaned his wrist against the car door. “Just thinking about Eddie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs took his eyes off the road for a moment to watch Sonny’s face in profile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How in a more just world, you’d be driving him home right now.” He looked up, into the night sky, his jaw clenching. He took another desperate drag and shook his head. “It just seems like the scales got balanced wrong, y’know? That not only do I get away unscathed when he dies, but that I get you out of the bargain, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s eyes darted to Tubbs for a split second, and then he turned to look out the window once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs had no response to this. Crockett had some darkness, unquestionably, but he had never heard it come out so plainly like lethal self-loathing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He must have been staring, because Sonny glanced at him askew again and added, “Look, I’m not saying I wish I had died instead, Rico, just that if the world were fair, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Survivor’s guilt was a killer, and Sonny had it in spades. No way Tubbs was leaving him alone tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put his hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “If the world were fair, you n’ me wouldn’t have jobs. And besides, I’m glad I got you as a partner, even if you are a pain in the ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hands on the wheel, buddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> drive with both hands on the wheel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure as hell hope not! Real dangerous to drive stick that way!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I mean,” Tubbs scowled, gesturing puffing away on a cigarette. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fortunate, then, that you don’t smoke.” He gestured aggressively, somewhere between a point and a wave, at the steering wheel. “Hands on the wheel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs snorted, but did as was asked of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they arrived at the dock, he followed Sonny inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately Sonny affected the particular brand of masculine posturing he preferred for making gay jokes and, plopping himself down on the side of his bed, raised an eyebrow and pouted a bit. “You sleeping over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs, standing at the doorway to Sonny’s bedroom, didn’t rise to the bait. “That’s the plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny scratched at the side of his neck, his eyes red and sunken. He sniffed. “I’m okay, Rico. You can go home, seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, my car’s at the station, and I don’t see you letting me take yours home.” He leaned back against the doorframe that divided the living room and kitchen from the bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny threw his shoes and his jacket off and tucked one foot up on the bed. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>get</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you’re doing, man. But I’m supposed to be a drug dealer. You think I’ve never nursed a coke hangover before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew, of course, that sometimes that was part of the job. So far, he had never been asked to seriously sample the merchandise, but he might be someday. That Sonny </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it was still upsetting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. But how do you feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny sniffed. “Obviously shitty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think you’d feel a little better if you were distracted?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably,” Sonny sighed, rolling his eyes a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll stay.” He rolled himself off the wall and around the corner into the kitchen. Tubbs’ apartment wasn't exactly luxurious, but the absurdity of Crockett’s living space— three-quarter-size appliances and a sink a foot too low for a grown man— was really not his speed. He grabbed a glass from the tiny overhead cabinet and poured water into it from the tap, careful not to bonk his head or elbows on anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” he handed Sonny the glass of water, “drink this and I’ll make coffee, okay? And you should probably eat something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, mom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got anything quick like cheese or nuts or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not hungry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Tubbs shrugged, heading back into the kitchen. He set the coffee pot to percolate and started digging through the cabinets for easy calories. A little sleuthing managed to uncover an Almond Joy, a bag of pistachios, and a slightly sad banana. He popped his head back in the bedroom and held them aloft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny was lying back on the bed, one foot still on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. His forehead glistened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pantry’s a little bare, but take your pick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up from the bed, hollow-eyed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pick something before I stick this candy bar in your mouth with the wrapper on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny snorted, and then winced slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” He reached up and rubbed his eyes. “Gimme the fucking nuts.” He paused. “No, actually, banana.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs returned the pistachios and candy bar to the counter, and sat beside Sonny on the edge of the bed. He handed Sonny the banana.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you’re not going to peel it for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to see you still have a sense of humor,” Tubbs grumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny stared at the banana in his hand, unmoving. “Well, I haven’t started feeling like I’m going to puke yet, so you probably have another half an hour of witty charm left before I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs patted him on the arm and this time he didn’t flinch. Instead he sighed and peeled the banana. He took a tentative bite, still on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna choke,” Tubbs cautioned, mostly joking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a dirty joke in here somewhere,” Sonny posited, taking another bite. “But I’m leaving it on the table because I’m even dumber than usual right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not touching that one.” Either the obvious felatio joke </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> the implication of crumbling self-worth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finished the banana just as the coffee pot started rumbling with escaping steam. Tubbs got up to pour them both a cup; when he stepped back across the threshold into the bedroom, he noticed Sonny was shivering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine here,” Sonny rebutted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to drink.” He put the cups down on the bedside table and started surveying the room for a blanket. Not finding one, he put his hand out for Sonny to use as leverage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His exposed shoulders were vibrating as he pulled himself from the bed. “You know,” he croaked, releasing Tubbs’ hand, “Even when it’s an accident…” He reached behind himself to get the coffee, but Tubbs grabbed it and handed it to him before he could, likely, knock it all over the bedspread. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took his own cup and sat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even when your whole fucking job is trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>prevent</span>
  </em>
  <span> people from doin’ this shit,” he paused, taking a shaky sip of his coffee. “There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>that little voice that says, ‘you know what would make you feel better? More coke.’” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at Tubbs, just for a second, a half-glance from under his brows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’ll tell ya’, I’m not dumb enough to listen to it, but it gets louder every time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even holding the coffee with two hands, he was shaking enough that the liquid inside kept getting jostled up against the edges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs put his arm around him, not sure whether he was trying to steady him or warm him up or what. Sonny gave him another sidelong glance, and then sipped his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really don’t have to do this,” he insisted, one last time. “I’m just going to sleep it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Tubbs sipped his own coffee and nodded slightly. “But you also don’t need to tough it out by yourself, either.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like I have typhoid or something.” Sonny’s shivering was just as noticeable by touch; Tubbs’ arm vibrated along with him. “I’ll have the sniffles and a headache tomorrow and then I’ll move on with my life.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s pallor and shaking made this assessment seem like a bit of an understatement. It wasn’t like this was the first time Tubbs had crashed on his couch, and it wasn’t like he was really inconveniencing himself in any way to be here. He watched Sonny blink stickily and pull his shirt away from his chest, soaked with sweat. His insistence that Tubbs go home seemed more like embarrassment than anything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs tightened his grip around his friend’s middle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pale and drawn, Sonny smiled weakly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not even the one who broke up with his boyfriend tonight,” he shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obviously he was talking about Trudy, but his decision not to say ‘her’ made Tubbs have to check a little smile that was developing in the corners of his mouth. He had tried for a while to drop hints that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but either Sonny hadn’t noticed, or Tubbs was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wildly</span>
  </em>
  <span> off-base about his partner’s sexual leanings and he had probably puzzled immensely over some of Tubbs’ more overtly queer comments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even so, he couldn’t help but tease him a little, just to lighten the mood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never met your boyfriend,” he joked, trying not to smirk. “Is he a nice guy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s eyes snapped to Tubbs’ face, and the corners of his mouth crunched up in irritation. He squinted and jested in return, “Well, you never like any of my girlfriends, so I…” He paused, suddenly looking very grey. He stood up abruptly, handed Tubbs his coffee cup, and made his way over to the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs could hear the water running, but it didn’t seem like he was actually vomiting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he came back into the bedroom, his face and hair were wet, but his color was a little better. He settled back in beside Tubbs, still shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, there’s the nausea,” he sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I never actually throw up, I just…” He shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sonny, if you don’t mind me asking, how often </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> you been dosed on the job?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Recently, not that often.” He took his coffee cup back from Tubbs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you want that back…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny nodded, sipping. “But when I was first trying to establish Burnett, y’know? Lotta ‘loyalty tests.’ Part of why some undercover guys end up hooked, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs put his arm back around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caroline, man…” He shook his head. “The first time it happened, I thought it was over then and there. Same bullshit we’ve been on about all night— she just couldn’t get her head around why anyone would agree to do something that fucking dumb.” He looked up, and lifted the mug to his lips. “And in some ways she was right. They don’t ever make you get jacked up to clean pools or sell hot dogs.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath in and then, shockingly, let his head flop onto Tubbs’ shoulder. His teeth were chattering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky for me,” he mumbled, mouth squished up against Tubbs’ jacket, “Coke and I don’t really seem to get along, so I’ve never been real tempted to take it up as a hobby.” He looked up at Tubbs. “Know what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> miss, though?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs had no idea where he could possibly be going with this. He shrugged, very slightly, trying not to knock Sonny’s teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A choke of laughter spilled from Tubbs’ mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure we could get you some, man,” he cackled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you think Izzy hasn’t offered </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> time he thinks I look ‘edgy?’” He smirked. “I mean… I guess I don’t want to be a hypocrite. But sometimes…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many months ‘til your birthday—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett snorted. “My birthday was three months ago.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. You’re right.” He grinned at Sonny. “How many months ‘til </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>birthday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven, Rico, which of us is on drugs right now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, fine. Thanksgiving, then,” he joked, unconsciously rubbing Sonny’s side, “You and I can go out in international waters and get a little hypocritical, alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way Sonny raised his eyebrows, just briefly, made Tubbs realize how much that had sounded like a come-on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Sonny didn’t move his head, and his response was merely, “Thanksgiving, really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you prefer Arbor Day? Mardi Gras?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny closed his eyes, smiling very weakly. He breathed out very slowly, just on the border of a groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck my head hurts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs reached up to touch Sonny’s forehead, as if he was taking his temperature. Almost imperceptibly, a muscle in his eye twitched with surprise. Sometimes, he still wondered if maybe he should be a little less free with his hands, when it came to Sonny. He didn’t care that Crockett was probably into dudes, and he didn't care if Crockett figured out that he was a little flexible on that front, himself. And just because he was a little bit into him— that was no reason to put the brakes on their friendship. But he didn’t want Sonny to think he was propositioning him, or that he was dumb enough to proposition his partner, period.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And sometimes— never in the light of day— Sonny flinched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when that happened, Tubbs found himself wanting to wrap his arms around him and try to get him to understand he had no intention of hurting him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that was its own sort of issue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned it into a joke, even though the backs of his fingers were still resting against Sonny’s forehead. “You think it’s from the coke, or getting hit in the face with the plate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny squinted laughter, pained. “Please don’t make me laugh,” he wheezed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just a funny guy, Sonny, can’t help it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyebrows knit together, still half-smiling, Sonny shivered against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think taking a shower might help you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You tryin’ to tell me I smell bad?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tubbs laughed, “Despite the forty-nine gallons of sweat. I mean to try to get a little warmed up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny opened his eyes and nodded, blearily. “That’s probably a good idea.” He extricated himself from Sonny’s arm and stood up, still shaking. “If I fall asleep in there, just leave me, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want me to call search and rescue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. Just feed me to Elvis when I drown.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like a burial at sea,” Tubbs nodded. “A burial at swamp.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes half lidded, Sonny pointed one finger at Tubbs and cocked it like a gun. He winked, a bit like he had never successfully managed the expression before, and then he was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs got up from the bed and started looking for blankets in earnest. There wasn’t a lot of use for nana’s quilts on a sailboat in Miami, but Crockett would probably sleep better if he had the option to stay warm. He eventually located something in the closet that looked like it had been crocheted out of doilies, but it was better than nothing. He tossed it on the bed and threw his jacket off, out the bedroom door and onto the kitchen counter. He kicked off his shoes, knocking them into the living room as well, and then loosened his tie and left it on the doorknob. He grabbed a magazine and flopped down on Sonny’s bed, figuring he’d wait for him to finish showering before he settled in on the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bed smelled like Luckies and salt, and just the tiniest bit of something else, a little tropical. Aftershave, maybe. Or sunblock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point, he must have dozed off, because his eyes opened abruptly as Crockett asked, “Got a girl in here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs blinked, wide-eyed against the light. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny gestured to the tie with his thumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chuckling, Tubbs rubbed his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you’d share, if you're gonna use my bed." His head was tilted a little, upper lip just barely tweaked in a false sneer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs almost spat. He collected himself, sitting up and straightening out the magazine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I am… </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> awake enough for that joke, man," he muttered, trying to look somewhere neutral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>haven't</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Sonny tsked, face soft and worn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had. And he would, Tubbs admitted, 'share,' if Sonny expressed that kind of interest. He could picture himself with a girl between them, even if that wasn’t a much better idea than picturing themselves </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> a girl between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny used the towel around his shoulders to rub his hair mostly dry, looking at the crocheted blanket on the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume the doilies there are supposed to be a blanket and not a shawl,” Tubbs shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny smiled like he was going to chuckle, but no sound came out. “Yeah. This was before you, but we used this retirement home as a base for a while during a big sting, and one of the octogenarians, uh, Sadie, had a little crush on me, I guess. Sadie and Rosie— Sadie thought I was the cute one, and Rosie said Eddie was— they had this oneupmanship game and, well, somehow I ended up with a really ugly, really heartfelt blanket.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He yawned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haven’t gone back to visit,” came out in a pained sotto voce. He continued, admitting, “Assuming they’re both still alive, I don’t have the heart to tell them Eddie isn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a quiet, slow breath, Sonny threw the covers off one side of the bed himself under them, Sadie’s blanket over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and rolled over on his stomach like Tubbs' presence didn't even register. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs flattened the magazine to the bedside table and glanced at his friend’s face, haggard and smooshed into the pillow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sleeping?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m down for the count,” Sonny mumbled, fabric over his mouth and nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs patted him on the back and got up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yell if you need anything, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny murmured agreement, and then reached out from under the covers to blindly grope around where Tubbs had been sitting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You looking for something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sonny grumbled, opening one eye, “You.” He put his hand out palm up, and, without overthinking the gesture too badly, Tubbs reached out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny squeezed the tips of his fingers in his hand, and then snaked his arm back under the covers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, partner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anytime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs stood a little longer by the side of the bed than he should have, watching Sonny breathe. There was a touch of </span>
  <em>
    <span>appel du vide</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his thoughts tonight, he sighed, trying not to listen to the part of his brain telling him to slide under the covers beside him. Nothing good came of lusting after your partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flipped the light off and padded into the living room. With the smell of coffee and sea salt in the air, and the thought of Sonny’s head on his shoulder, he fell asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tubbs & Tetrodotoxin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Every time he closed his eyes, Tubbs saw fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adrenaline had gotten him through the afternoon, but now he was exhausted, shaky, and feeling more than a little haunted. He wanted to sleep, but the inferno raging behind his eyelids made that difficult. Sure, Marie was safe and Legba was dead, but the basic fact of the matter— that he had been drugged against his will and left for dead in the bottom of a swimming pool— no amount of case-closure was going to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> palatable. The drugs were out of his system, according to the doctor, but his mind remained a morass of flame and drums.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re clearly not listening to a word of this, so I’m going to turn on the radio and let you sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs blinked drowsily back into reality, but the glare of lights on the highway hurt his head. He closed his eyes again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m listening. I’m not asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. What was I just talking about, then?” Tubbs could hear Crockett smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs sighed. “How great I am, and how you owe every one of this past year’s arrests to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett snorted, and flicked the radio on anyway. For about thirty seconds it was that song with the black and white animated music video, and then Crockett turned the dial to a different station. Whitney Houston, and then static, and then something with an electric organ. After a few more seconds of this, Crockett settled on oldies, turned the volume to half, and left the dial alone.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Passed in flame and headache, the next few minutes crawled by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, then, Sugar, your place or mine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs opened one eye at Sonny, who was grinning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rico, there’s no way in hell you’re not getting a nursemaid tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it’s gotta be you?” Tubbs teased, trying to smile past the throbbing. “You can’t hire someone a little sexier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m all the sexy you’re gettin’ tonight, pal,” Sonny laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth was, under different circumstances, that might be an acceptable amount of sexy. Recently, Tubbs had been a little at war with himself— he still valued his partnership with Sonny over any wayward thoughts of indiscretion, but sometimes when Sonny looked at him a certain way… Well. He was usually able to put it out of his mind, but it was getting harder to ignore the fact that the thought was there in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought about what might happen if they went back to Sonny’s boat, and pictured two possible outcomes: he would sleep on the dollhouse furniture couch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, probably tweaking his back for the next week, or Sonny would offer him the bed, and he’d toss and turn all night smelling Sonny in the linens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My place,” Tubbs answered. “I need real food and you only got burgers and bass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> real food.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So thinks everyone in the whole of Florida,” Tubbs sighed. He missed vegetarian restaurants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you become a vegetarian, anyway?” Sonny squinted slightly, head tilted a little to the left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you have to be baptised, and then there’s first communion…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny glared from the corners of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to letting me sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can, but we’re about ten minutes away at this point.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten minutes is ten minutes I’m not awake to experience the sledgehammer on my brainstem.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny nodded and went quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes closed, Tubbs tried to fall asleep. He drifted in and out, floating through smoke and haze into fragile moments of sleep, and then repeatedly woke with a start, feet or hands to the fire, breathing in ash. Sonny had been lying about ten minutes— he always underestimated how long it took to get to Tubbs’ place— but he kept up his agreement to stay quiet for the rest of the drive. Between fits of sleep, Tubbs caught him stealing glances under half-lidded eyes, bow lips twisted in worry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart beat a little faster, and it wasn’t from the drugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking about Sonny keeping an eye on him, he managed to doze off for the last few minutes of the drive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before his eyes opened, he could feel the car shifting to a stop. Sonny touched his knee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here, pal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the way up the stairs, Sonny stayed a pace behind, brows furrowed and arms at the ready. Tubbs was glad Sonny couldn’t see him roll his eyes . He wasn’t going to fall down the stairs just because his head was pounding. Even if his legs </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel a little like overcooked pasta.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they got up to the landing, Tubbs unlocked the door and hung his jacket up on the hook. Sonny followed him in, hands in his pockets, and then just as suddenly out of them. He looked around as Tubbs slipped out of his shoes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can I help?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs shook his head. “I’m okay, Sonny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a sharp look. “You sit. Whatever you need, that’s why I’m here, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard the doc, I’m not even—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny poked Tubbs in the chest with his pointed index finger, pursing his lips a little. “Rico, sit your ass down. Tonight, you say jump, I ask how high, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs smirked, swallowing a laugh. “Okay.” He flopped back on the couch, hands up in false surrender. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of food am I making?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None,” Tubbs snapped, thinking about Sonny trying to cook anything in his kitchen. “There’s bean soup in the fridge and bread in the box.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re not too good for plant protein,” Tubbs smiled, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch, “feel free to heat yourself up a bowl, too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hadn’t eaten dinner, but Sonny could get weird about food sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his eyes closed, the throbbing lessened, but the flames returned. He shouldn’t, he realized, his skin going clammy, be alive. People didn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>recover</span>
  </em>
  <span> from being injected with tetrodotoxin, even if it had been altered for drug use. People didn’t just wake up okay after spending the night in a coma at the bottom of a pool. He had heard Sonny and Castillo and the doctor talking, and he knew that a few more hours would have killed him. He knew that he wasn’t entirely out of the woods, either, if the quiet aside between Crockett and the doctor, or the mysterious conversation Castillo had insisted he have one-on-one with Sonny, had meant anything. And of course, more than that— the images he kept seeing. He wondered, his heartbeat in his throat, if he was going to see shadows of Legba reflected on every surface, for the rest of his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or was this what it meant to be a ‘zombie?’ To live with a dark cast around the edges of your brain, nervous and clammy, unsure of what damage had been done to you? To think slowly, gummed up in pain, your limbs responding like a video tape with the audio out of sync? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of the faucet interrupted the churning malaise that was creeping from his stomach out through the rest of his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to focus on the sound of what Crockett was doing in the kitchen— a soft clink as glass or ceramic touched the counter— the hum of the microwave— the rough paper quiet of a serrated knife through bread— and found his pulse slowing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure whether he had started to drift off again or not when he felt a soft rush of air pass by him, carrying a hint of smoke and spice. He opened one eye. Sonny deposited a bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of him, smiled a customer-service smile, and disappeared back into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sonny has beautiful arms</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tubbs mused, leaning forward to take his bowl. He didn’t quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span> his partner’s need to expose himself all the time, but he also wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was always tempted to run his hands down his shoulders or brush the backs of his fingers against the blonde fuzz on his upper arms, but he couldn’t be sure how Sonny would take it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nagging voice that said it didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he took it, because he was his </span>
  <em>
    <span>partner</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they shouldn’t cross that boundary… Tubbs found it had grown progressively quieter over the past few months. The past few weeks it had grown downright tongue-tied— every time Sonny smiled at him and then looked down for a second, the voice got a little quieter. Every time he cast him a devious glance across a room, eyebrows darting up, it got a little less insistent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spooned soup into his mouth and watched Sonny through the kitchen door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head felt like an asbestos sleep mask. Food was helping a little, but what he really wanted was for someone to snap their fingers and send him forward in time a few days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny gingerly placed a second bowl of soup on the table and plopped down beside him on the couch. He pointed his spoon at Tubbs. “Honest assessment, how you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs sighed, poking at a bit of carrot with his spoon. “I’m still seeing things, and my head still feels like it’s going to crack down the middle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny paused with his spoon in his mouth and grimaced. “What kinda things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shadows, mostly. Not really people so much any more. Fire.” Tubbs shrugged. “Feels less like I’m stuck at a horror movie and more like I keep waking up from a dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it keeps up,” Sonny murmured, eyeing Tubbs with concern, “I’m bringing you back to the doctor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny, I don’t remember giving you power of attorney,” Tubbs smirked, ignoring Sonny’s honest distress. He sipped from the edge of his bowl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in the kitchen gurgled loudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I put on coffee. You want some?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs weighed his desire to sleep with the smell that was now drifting into the living room. “Yeah, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny put his bowl back on the table and stood up. When he came back from the kitchen, he had two steaming mugs of coffee and a look of mild concern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Tubbs smiled, reaching his hand out for one of the mugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey man, you’re the one who’s feeding me dinner,” Sonny laughed. With his free hand, he pressed the backs of his fingers into Tubb’s forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs looked up at him from below his eyelashes, through the space between his fingers. “I don’t have the flu, you know.” Not that he hadn’t done exactly the same thing a few weeks ago, for an equally inexplicable reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you were burning up at the hospital.” He kept his hand there for a moment longer, and then, seemingly satisfied, sat back down with his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Picking up his bowl, the corner of Sonny’s mouth turned up. “Coffee and bean soup. You always eat like a cowboy, Rico?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only when I don’t need to impress,” Tubbs laughed. The echo sliced through his brain like a boning knife. He winced, trying to make it as imperceptible as he could. He needed Sonny to stop looking at him like he was made of faience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a mouthful of soup, Sonny had missed the flinch. He chuckled wetly, hand to his mouth, trying not to dribble through his laughter. Swallowing, he asked, “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you make to impress? Salad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had this conversation, or something on a similar theme, at least once a fortnight; Sonny either had a memory like a sieve, or he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>liked razzing Tubbs. “You’d think you’d have eaten enough scraps from my lunches by now that you’d know I don’t just mow down iceberg.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s just a shame you don’t put those cooking skills to use on something other than a soy loaf,” Sonny sighed, shaking his head slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crockett, what do you think a soy loaf actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny flattened his mouth and cocked one eyebrow up slightly. “Like a…” He put his hands out, about a foot apart. “A big block of something beige that you stick in the oven until it’s slightly darker beige, and it tastes like insulation.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs elbowed him, gently enough that he didn’t spill his soup. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grinning, Sonny shot Tubbs a glance absolutely sugared with mischief. “So what actually is it, then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s like… meatloaf, but made with ground up vegetables and soy beans.” He shrugged. “I’ve never actually made one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny, me neither,” Sonny chirped, spoon halfway to his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in quiet company, sipping coffee and finishing their soup. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs’ stomach rolled slightly as he ate— nothing that was going to spill over into full-blown nausea or illness, but a reminder that his body systems were out of whack. He chewed slowly, the movement of his jaw chipping away at the tension in his neck. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> tempted to ask Sonny if he’d be willing to give his skull a good mashing, but couldn’t think of a way to phrase, ‘hey, you wanna give me a massage?’ that didn’t sound creepy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A cold towel might be nice, too, but it would be hard to finish his coffee or carry on any conversation like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny picked up his empty bowl from the table and moved to stand up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving dishes out for you to deal with later, man. I’m not a total neanderthal.” Sonny disappeared into the kitchen and yelled back behind him, “Besides, it’ll take me thirty seconds.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water came on and Tubbs tried not to feel guilty. He still sort of wanted something cold, but a towel was awkward and another drink seemed silly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Sonny,” he shouted, suddenly remembering, “There’s Swiss Miss bars in the freezer— grab us some on the way back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett just laughed, but a moment or two after the water turned off, he came back with two chocolate pudding bars in hand. He handed one to Tubbs. “What kind of grown man has a freezer full of ice pops?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>animal</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t have a freezer full of ice pops in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Miami</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Tubbs tossed his head slightly, and immediately regretted it. “Besides, you don’t seem to be too good for one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey man, if they’re there for the taking…” Sonny maintained eye contact as he licked his popsicle, and dammit if Tubbs didn’t have to look away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stuck the top quarter of the thing in his mouth, trying to cool his teeth. Sonny, eyes still on him, smirked so hard it was almost audible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett sighed and put his arm behind him on the back of the couch, not touching Tubbs, just spreading out. He nibbled a bit off the top of his popsicle and then stared at the place he had bitten, running his tongue over his lower lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you doing, really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really any different from when you asked twenty minutes ago?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean,” Sonny looked down and made that noise, like a sigh catching in his throat. “Like, do you… want to talk? About what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs took a moment to formulate his thoughts, sucking on the end of the popsicle. What was there to talk about? He had nearly died. He didn’t remember much more than that, and what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember— the fear and the convulsions and the feeling like his body didn’t belong to him— he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m good, man.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Sonny blinked, his long eyelashes fanning together. “You sure scared the hell out of me.” He looked back at Tubbs. “If you change your mind…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t answer, but instead Tubbs softly knocked his knee against Sonny’s. They looked at each other, twinned crooked-mouth expressions of defeat, and looked away. It wasn’t like this was the worst thing that had happened to either of them. It was just the most recent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs bit down on his popsicle, feeling the cold on the flat surfaces of his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could try to be distracting,” Sonny suggested, his tone just on the border of a joke, before adding a quiet, “if that’ll help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were a lot of ways Tubbs could respond to that, but he didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he looked at his watch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could catch the second half of </span>
  <em>
    <span>St. Elsewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if you want.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s tongue, touching the popsicle, snapped back into his mouth as he laughed. “Sure.” He got up and turned the TV on. It was a rerun— the one where everyone found out about Caldwell and Halloran— but it was nice focusing on someone else’s problems for a little while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs half-watched the TV, and half-watched Sonny. Usually his interest in guys was pretty fleeting, but he had come to the distressing conclusion that, for whatever reason, that just wasn’t going to be the case with his partner. It’s not like Sonny was even much romantic material; often, he was moody and snappish, and on bad days, there was a startling depth to his darkness. Most of the time, Tubbs could coax him out of it, but sometimes he had to stop and wonder when and how that had become his job.</span>
</p>
<p><span>At the same time, when things were easy with him, they were </span><em><span>so</span></em> <em><span>damn easy.</span></em><span> It seemed almost unfair that they couldn’t extend that ease into the physical realm.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like a major conflict of interest that those two are sleeping together,” Sonny mused, still nursing his popsicle. Tubbs couldn’t remember ever watching someone spend so much time licking a pudding pop— normal people </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> fudgesicles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tubbs agreed. “It doesn’t end well for them.” He shrugged. Sonny didn’t actually care— the man didn’t own a TV— but he also wasn’t wrong about the misaimed workplace romance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, topical momentum carried Tubbs somewhere blindingly stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>you keep things copacetic with Gina when you were doing the friends with benefits thing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny squinted, stuck between bafflement and disagreement. “I don’t think I did?” He blinked, repeatedly, like he was trying to summon memories from just out of reach. “We called it off for a reason. I mean, she felt like she was being led on, and I…” He shrugged, not a gesture of ignorance but one of defeat. “I wasn’t looking for that kind of relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tubbs agreed, “but you’re still friends, so you must’ve been doing something right.” He bit the last piece off his popsicle stick and chewed as Sonny formulated a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” he sighed. “But I do feel like some of it was just luck. Gina’s… well, let’s put it this way, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been jilted like I jilted her, I wouldn’t be so forgiving.” He licked an errant drip from the side of his bar, and then looked at Tubbs with an eyebrow raised. “Why you asking? You planning on shacking up with someone at work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs licked his lips, trying not to smile. “Just curious, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, who is it? Trudy? The dispatch girl, uh, Lori?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Refusing to play the guessing game, Tubbs chomped the end of his popsicle stick and stared at Sonny blithely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, wait— </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> it Gina?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Sonny,” Tubbs scoffed, responding just to keep his honor intact, “I’m not going to sleep with your ex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A series of microexpressions played out on Sonny’s face, and then he shrugged, looking unconvinced with his own conclusions. “I mean… you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if you wanted to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. I couldn’t,” Tubbs assured him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny turned his head back to the TV, now scowling. He bit the inside of his lip and squinted one eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Janet, the redhead in major crimes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs continued silently chewing on his stick. It was a dumb idea, but it kind of made his teeth feel better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, the uh… the meter maid, whatsername, Bonnie, with the,” he gestured a heavy pair of breasts with his hands, and then raised his eyebrows like that </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be the answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs snorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gimme something to work with here, bud, what squad?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered, should he tell him it was vice? The list of possible candidates shrank to a less than a handful, if he was only counting women. So he just smirked, eyes on the TV.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lacey, in HR. She’s got a nice face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And a husband.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah.” He suddenly made a face like he had eaten something incredibly bitter. “God, it’s not the one from IA, is it? Shit, what’s her </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>name…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The lady you call the Iron Maiden?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny grinned. “Yeah, her!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d sooner sleep with the Bug Van.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>glittering</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sonny made that wonderful face— all dimples and crows feet and his top teeth just slightly exposed. Sometimes he just smiled so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>shy</span>
  </em>
  <span> for such a handsome asshole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He elbowed Tubbs and kept guessing names, vacillating between amusement and annoyance as each guess turned out to be wrong. Causing a headache for Sonny, Tubbs discovered, was making his own head feel just that much better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny sucked the last bit of his pudding pop— now more pudding than popsicle— off its stick and threw his hands up in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve run out of women, so either you lied about one of them, or it’s a man.” Sonny tilted his head to the side, a slightly wolfish smile rendering his features sharp. “And you know Larry and Stan only have eyes for each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His usual schtick— bring up the spectre of queerness, and then pin it on someone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs ran his tongue along his bottom teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell, why not.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I told you it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a man?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s lips parted slightly, in time with a wide-eyed blink. He opened his mouth a little wider, like he was going to say something, and then turned his gaze back to the TV. He licked his lips, and very slowly, not making eye contact, responded with the utmost caution. “You know I don’t care who someone gets their jollies with, but I guess I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs watched a muscle in his partner’s neck twitch with a nervous swallow. His hands were flat on his thighs, and something on the far wall behind the television set had apparently become </span>
  <em>
    <span>deeply</span>
  </em>
  <span> fascinating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Tubbs wondered if maybe he had been wrong the whole time. Was this squirreliness because they were inching too close to Crockett’s secret, or… because he was just kind of freaked out that his partner admitted he wasn’t straight to him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could still back out, at this point— make it a joke, slap him on the arm and laugh about how easily snookered he was— but knowing Sonny’s history, there was a cruelty in that lie he wasn’t willing to perpetuate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In for a penny…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, most people wouldn’t peg you as the type, either, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s shoulders stiffened and his jaw tightened: a look of terror, not surprise or disbelief. Like a cornered animal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then just as suddenly, he was all smiles, blank and sterile, like when he smiled at a particularly annoying witness. He managed to look Tubbs in the eye, but it was like he was looking past him. “Well, I… don’t swing that way, so…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs refused to break eye contact. He smacked Sonny in the arm. “Don’t lie to your partner.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny looked like, if he could, he would dissolve. “I’m not…” He opened his mouth and shook his head slightly, eyes very wide. “I’m not lying, I…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. So, when you put your sunglasses on to watch nice-looking dudes walk by, you really believe no one can follow your eyes, huh?” Tubbs tilted his chin down slightly and gave Sonny an ‘I-dare-you’ kind of look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” Sonny jammed his hands in his pockets and glared, for a surprisingly long time. He narrowed his eyes even further and turned forward, shaking his head slightly. “God, it’s not that obvious, is it?” His head snapped back to Tubbs. “How long have you known?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that obvious, I just… got a vibe, y’know?” He closed one eye and scrunched his mouth up on that side. “And I don’t have an exact date, but… least last spring.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Rico, that’s a long time!” His eyebrows arced upwards and he pursed his lips slightly. “You just been sitting on that theory, waiting for— what?” His whole face scrunched and scrunched. “And you— did you mean it when you said… that you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny shook his head in slow, wobbly disbelief. “God. I wouldn’t have ever figured you out, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit,” Tubbs agreed, nodding his head slightly to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The softening of Sonny’s posture that had started a moment ago stopped, and he froze up again. “Y’know…” His brows furrowed. “It’s… not a good idea to get involved with a guy at the precinct, even if it’s casual or…” He scratched at his eye. “I mean, not a lot has changed since Mike died, I guess, is what I’m trying to say. And not everyone’s an angel like Gina— you don’t want some random schmuck with blackmail on you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs contemplated swallowing his popsicle stick. Sonny couldn’t possibly be this dense. He let him ramble on for a moment more, the ache in his skull blooming back into a bundle of tendrils, tight and electric. Tonight probably shouldn’t have been the night he decided to have this conversation, but maybe being exhausted had lowered his inhibitions enough for the words to finally find their way out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put his hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “Crockett.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny stopped his diatribe. “Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> about your history with the whole coworkers-with-benefits paradigm because I was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to propose maybe… that’s the kind of arrangement that might work for you and me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s eyes fluttered shut and open. His expression was like static on a TV— a set someone had forgotten to hook up to the antenna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He licked his lips, maybe nervous, maybe something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rico, I’m…” He looked down, mouth starting to pull into a frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs finished for him, embarrassment flooding in. “Flattered, but not interested?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Sonny shook his head. “I’m… I’m interested, I just…” His eyes travelled from Tubbs’ face downward, and then back up. “I’m still kind of stuck on the fact that you’re not…” He pressed his lips together. “And tonight’s… maybe not the night to make that kind of…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I figured we’d wait until I wasn’t less than 24 hours out of the hospital,” Tubbs joked, self-consciousness thrumming in time with the pain in his head. “Listen: if it’s not your bag, man, it’s not your bag.” He put his hands out in front of his chest, a quiet stop sign for wherever this was going. “I was just putting the idea out there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny closed his eyes and tipped his head down, breathing a disappointed huff out his nose. “I’m sorry, I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it.” Tubbs shrugged. “I’m not asking for your vows, just suggesting we might be able to… have a little fun.” He put his hand on Sonny’s knee and shook his leg slightly, making it sway from side to side. “No hard feelings,” he lied, smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny stole a glance at Tubbs from the corner of his eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, and then chewed briefly on his lower lip. “I need a little time to think it over, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barely moving his head, Tubbs nodded. “Sure. Offer’s open,” he smiled, shrugging sheepishly, “So long as we’re both single.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett snorted. “So, perpetually, at least in my case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you’ve had more long-term prospects than I’ve had,” Tubbs laughed, elbowing his partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More like you just have </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> better judgement than I have.” Sonny picked up his coffee mug and stood. “Refill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m good. I probably shouldn’t have had the first cup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and left for the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs felt his stomach roll, and he let himself go limp on the couch. Of course, there hadn’t been any guarantee Sonny would be interested, but it was still a letdown. They probably could have had a good time together. But hey, at least it seemed like their friendship was still intact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crockett’s eyebrows scrunched a wrinkle in his forehead as he came back in. “You look worse again,” he fretted, coffee in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t exactly tell him it was because his self-esteem was a little bruised, and not because of the fish poison. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m starting to get kind of tired, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny sat back down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a hard look at Tubbs’ face, quietly sipping his coffee.“You really scared the shit out me, y’know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scared the shit out of me, too,” Tubbs agreed, huffing a single peal of bitter laughter from his nose. He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” Sonny insisted, instantaneously pouty. “When I thought you might be dead, y’know what the first thing that popped in my head was?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I quit,” Sonny annunciated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing that after being turned down felt uncomfortable in a way Tubbs couldn’t quite articulate. Nothing specific— just a strange sort of hollowness in his stomach. A need to escalate or deescalate, to ask him what he really meant by that or laugh it off as a joke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to follow the middle path and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like normal people, but stepping back into that place— thinking about the fact that, technically, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>found his body</span>
  </em>
  <span>— was making the corners of his vision blurry and brown. Like being buried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What came out of his mouth, half-choked, was unintentionally cruel, instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s probably less to do with me and more to do with your track record with partners.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he said it, the feeling around his eyes contracted, a sharp crushing darkness limned with heat. He couldn’t believe he had phrased it that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s face wrinkled, tightening with distress as he looked into his coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Sonny, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sonny sighed, shaking his head. “You’re at least half right.” His eyes darted to the side, and then back to his drink. “Not to put any pressure on you or anything, but I’m definitely taking an early retirement if you die, pal.” He smirked, but he wasn’t lying. “I’ve hit my quota.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I was gonna die next Tuesday, but,” Tubbs elbowed him, “Since you’re telling me not to, I guess I won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, I’m glad to see you taking my advice for once,” Sonny nodded, a tiny upward tilt alighting his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs looked at his empty coffee cup, suddenly wishing he had something to do with his hands. The words that kept filling his mouth— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you just that dead-set on never doing the workplace fling thing again? Did everything with Mike fuck you up that badly that you only ever look at men, and never touch? Is it me, specifically? </span>
  </em>
  <span>—would only serve to make Crockett defensive and uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” he decided, hands clapped flat to his thighs, “I’m declaring a moratorium on discussing the events of the past 72 hours. Regale me with football stats or teach me about engine repair or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny’s mouth, full of coffee, twisted into a smirk of disbelief as he laughed through his nose. He swallowed. “Jesus, Rico, you really must be feeling crappy if you want me to tell you about engines.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Read me a bilge pump repair manual, man, just so we stop talking through the terms of my will, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrrrrnnn,” Sonny grumbled, rubbing his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He looked up, biting at the inside of his cheek. “Wanna hear a story about the time I ended up in a high speed chase with a bunch of nudists?” He paused. “Well, I don’t know if they were nudists, strictly, but they were naked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankly I’m shocked you haven’t told me that one already.” Tubbs nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so…” He put his hands out in front of him, palms forward, fingers spread. “Eddie and I were getting coffee, and I had just put my cash down on the counter when these two guys, naked as jaybirds, come bounding down the stairs of a nearby apartment building, dicks swinging, and jump into this burnt orange Corvette.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, grinning to himself. “So, me ‘n Eddie are just… frozen, y’know? Coffee in hand, watching these two assholes scramble into this car, and we realize that one of them is waving to someone upstairs and the other has his whole fucking ass in the air, head under the steering wheel, and just as it becomes clear to us that they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>stealing</span>
  </em>
  <span> the goddamn car, another guy and two girls run out of the building and throw themselves in the backseat, also in the buff.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In half a second they’re gone, hotwired, and I’m behind the wheel of Eddie’s car, chasing them out of this busy neighborhood at 6pm,” he turned and looked at Tubbs, gesturing like his hands were full, “And Eddie’s got a coffee in each hand as I’m barrelling around the corner at eighty trying to keep this car full of streakers in sight, wobbling them back and forth so they don’t spill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs snorted, and it only hurt a little. “Why didn’t he just leave the coffees?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no idea, man, but I never let him hear the end of it,” Sonny rumbled, laughter in his voice. “Now, this wasn’t the Ferrari, so I couldn’t really push the thing much higher than 85 without the whole damn car shaking so hard I started to worry the steering wheel was going to come off in my hands, but I kept on their tail.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He licked his lower lip, eyes glittering. “We finally thought we had them pinned, and they stopped the car, right? And then all five of them jump out and run in different directions, like… naked cockroaches. Eddie and I start running after the guy that hotwired the car, and Eddie </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> has the goddamn coffee in his hands.” Sonny crunched over in silent laughter, his eyes crinkling shut. “I’m telling you, Rico, there was Benny Hill music playing in my head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sensation of </span>
  <em>
    <span>closing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tubbs had been experiencing on and off all day, the dark borders around his vision— it all grew sort of soft and borderless as he listened to Sonny talk. A sensation less like being buried and more like gently sinking into a fog. He blinked slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we’re running, I’m chasing after this stark naked lunatic, Eddie goes after one of the others, all running naked in different directions, and this guy’s junk is just blowing in the breeze as he sprints down Lincoln Road, and man, he’s gotta be some kind of runner or something, because I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>losing</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, until he turns to look behind him and runs headlong into this pink-haired drag queen on rollerskates.” Sonny shook his head slightly, chuckling at the memory. “They both go ass over teakettle, but she’s got the wherewithal to grab the bastard, and by the time I catch up she’s lecturing him about </span>
  <em>
    <span>watching where you’re going</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like the issue is anything other than the fact that he’s galloping around with his dong out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m wheezing like a coal miner when I get to them and she just turns to me, death grip on the naked guy’s arm, and asks ‘does this belong to you?’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to Tubbs and shrugged, palms up. “And I just… lose it, completely. Un-fucking-stoppable laughter, bent over at the middle, while my suspect is being unlawfully detained by a civilian, and all the artists and hippies are just standing around with their mouths open watching this melodrama play out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny huffed laughter through his nose and pinched the spot just between the corners of his eyes. “When I finally stopped laughing, I must have apologized to this lady forty-seven times, and I cuffed the guy, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>started walking him back to the car before I remembered he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking naked.” He snorted, abruptly. “I made him tie my jacket around his waist, but I kept having to stop and adjust the damn thing so he wasn’t flashing his ass or dick at any more random people, and every time I stopped I just thought: </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone’s going to see me doing this and think I’m giving this guy a handjob</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so by the time I got back Eddie’s car I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>drenched</span>
  </em>
  <span> in sweat from running and nerves and—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He broke into hysterical laughter, and Tubbs watched through half-lidded eyes as his face just sparkled with mischief. His laughter was contagious, and Tubbs found himself quietly giggling along with him, soft and breathy to protect his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—and yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when Eddie shows up a minute later with another nude carjacker, he’s even fucking wetter, like an absolute drowned rat. He just looks at me over the top of his car and mutters, ‘fucker jumped in a fountain,’ and Rico, it’s a miracle I didn’t piss myself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny touched the backs of his fingers to his mouth, still chuckling. He sighed the last of the laughter away, slow and a little high-pitched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the other three?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never found ‘em,” Sonny shrugged, still smiling. “It was the damndest thing, like they just evaporated. Where the hell does a naked person lay low in the middle of a city? I’ve asked myself for years, where would I hide if I were naked in South Beach, and I’ve never come up with a satisfactory answer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs shook his head slightly, unable to stop smiling either. “In the ocean. You stay in up to your waist until the cops are gone, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t explain the girls!,” Sonny hooted, showing his eyeteeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> would let a naked chick hide in their shop if they asked,” Tubbs suggested, cracking this exceptionally valuable cold case wide open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I would,” Sonny shrugged, tossing his head to the side a little, cheeks dimpled. “Honestly, if I hadn’t been the one who had to catch them, I would’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>sheltered</span>
  </em>
  <span> any of the five of them, if you catch my drift.” His eyes darted almost imperceptibly to the left, although his expression remained puckish. That had been the real point of the story, Tubbs realized— a humorous foray into honesty, just to try it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you gotta have nude perps, I guess aesthetically pleasing nude perps make that go down a little easier.” Tubbs squinted slightly. “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> they naked? Drugs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what we assumed,” Sonny agreed, “But they were both clean. Apparently it was a group of grad students from Florida International, on some kind of… dare or… hazing escapade, I guess.” He looked over his shoulder at Tubbs, eyes still twinkling. “Anyway, the owner of the Corvette thought the whole thing was so funny she didn’t end up pressing charges, and at the end of the night Eddie and I went and bought uh, god, um. What was her name. The rollerskating avenger, uh,” he snapped his fingers, searching for a missing bit of case data, “Miss Chantilly, we went and bought her a drink for the assist. Easily the best day of policework I’ve ever done.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs couldn’t help but smile. “And you’ve been keeping this story up your sleeve just in case I really needed a pick-me-up someday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonny bit his lip, the crinkles still at the corners of his mouth and eyes, just for a second. “I don’t know. I think I’ve been keeping it up my sleeve because there’s something a little queer about it, y’know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs blinked. Except for the aside about the attractiveness of the streakers, there wasn’t really anything in the story that might reveal Crockett’s leanings. He flopped his head back against the couch and looked at Sonny over his cheeks and the side of his nose. “You spend a lot of time worrying about this, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You bet your ass I do. I don’t exactly have any marketable skills outside of being a cop.” Eyebrows furrowed, he shot Tubbs a look of disbelief. “Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> worry about people finding out?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I don’t go around telling people,” Tubbs pursed his lips slightly, thinking. He didn’t really have an answer for him. He had always sort of considered himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>flexibly straight</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than actively queer, when he had thought about it at all. Mostly he hadn’t really thought about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Tubbs could put words to his thoughts, Sonny’s eyes fluttered shut and he answered for him with a sigh. “I guess since you figured me out and not vice versa maybe you don’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to worry.” He stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers interlaced, and yawned. He looked at Tubbs with a slow blink, slightly moist. “I’m just glad you’re not looking to ditch me or report me or something.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs felt his guts twist and his brow furrow. If Crockett’s awkward rejection earlier hadn’t made it clear enough, that sure did. He was practically pretending Tubbs had never asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had really kind of thought there was some kind of buzz between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That when Crockett lit a cigarette and watched him from beneath his eyelashes, then blinked once, slow, maybe it meant something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That the little jokes he made, punctuated with a quick lift of his eyebrows and a dimpling of his cheek, maybe had some truth to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That the intensity of his hurt when Tubbs was hurt had a basis in something other that Crockett’s own trauma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But maybe it was better this way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Less baggage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbs closed his eyes, head back on the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried not to hear the pumping of his blood as a drum beat, tried not to feel the Miami heat as flames licking at his skin. He tried not to think about  how long Legba was going to live inside his head, or how much he felt like he was lying somewhere low in sodden earth, leaves brushing over his skin. He felt his body, sluggish and heavy, and tried not to worry about what that had done to his reflexes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt Sonny’s hand on his knee, and tried not to feel anything at all. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is this an unkind place to end this?</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p>Is Sonny <i>really</i> repressed? </p>
<p>Also yes.</p>
<p>Will they eventually figure it out?</p>
<p>Of course. I'm not committing war crimes, here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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